Honor Bound
by Adamantwrites
Summary: A married Adam finds he loves another-and decides to act on it. Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.
1. Chapter 1

Honor Bound

First

That night was hot; the day's heat seemed trapped inside despite the open windows. I knew the sweat was dripping off me and hitting Honor's chest and face as I moved but then fucking is hot work—plowing away in a woman, in this case, not my wife, took quite a bit of effort but hell, it was worth it. But unlike my wife Laura, Honor never seemed to mind being dripped on as she became glossy with sweat herself and the melded smell of the two of us, well, I'm sure an outsider would say we reeked. But we reveled in it, she and I, and I would have to wash the smell of her musky tang off me before I entered my house or Laura would know I had been with a woman.

Not that I thought Laura would care that I had satisfied my needs with someone else, she wouldn't, that is depending on who it was; as long as it wasn't someone she knew. Actually, my wife was more than likely relieved when I didn't want to climb on top of her anymore and had even hinted at separate bedrooms many times—she claimed my snoring kept her awake. But since I had stopped reaching for her at night and slipping my hand up her nightgown, she stopped complaining but I had begun to consider the separate rooms. I thought I might even be able to sneak in Honor some night and we could enjoy the softness of my bed instead of that lumpy thing she had. I had told her I'd buy her a new mattress, one filled with down that she could sink in and buy her expensive bed linens all the way from Baltimore. But she had laughed and kissed me and told me it wasn't necessary. But I did it anyway and it now sits—heavily used but holding up-in the large bedroom of the house I built initially for her—our house. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Like I said, it was a hot night as it had been a hot day. The heat had risen up in waves and all day I had an itch for Honor. I could almost taste her skin, the slight saltiness of it and feel her slickness as I entered her and that's what made me go to her on a night that I usually spent driving Laura and Peggy to church and back. They would spend the evening in Bible study and, yeah, I know I could use it as well and should have joined my pa and brothers but I would instead head to the Bucket of Blood and play poker and shoot the breeze until it was time to pick them up. Hoss always looked at me with such longing when I dropped off Laura and Peggy but he didn't have the guts to defy Pa and Joe would turn his puppy-dog eyes on me. And I would just smile. But that night I asked Hoss to pick up the two and he agreed so as soon as they were gone, I mounted up and headed to Honor's little house a mile out of town.

I laughed about the irony of her name once but Honor was confused; found out she didn't know what "irony' was. But she did understand that her name was a contradiction to her actions—and mine; Honor wasn't stupid—was actually quite intelligent compared to most women I knew, no attempts to manipulate me or play games—but her education had ended at 3rd grade because her mother died and she had to keep house and cook. She told me she was kept in line and reprimanded for her "incompetence" with her father's belt across her legs, often wielded just for the hell of it from what she told me. I told Honor, had I been there—I guess I would've been about 17 or 18 at the time—I would've beat the hell out of him. I still remember her face when I said that, her soft, fey smile and she reached up and caressed my cheek; I wanted to cry, I was gripped with such feelings of tenderness for her. Damn but she's a pretty, little thing!

Honor's father brought a woman into the house, "to keep his bed warm," Honor told me. "But she had her own daughter about my age and she hated me- made me sleep in the barn even on cold nights. I would sleep wrapped in a horse blanket and snuggle under the straw and our dog kept me company. That woman (Honor said she wouldn't call the woman by her name—ever!) would slap me if the food wasn't to her taste or if I made a mistake and her daughter would giggle at it. And that woman may have hated me but I hated her more. I even considered how I could kill her and made my plans. I hid a kitchen knife in the barn and planned on using it on her but a cowboy came by to water his horse. I was about 14 then, I guess—I don't know when my birthday is, what year I was actually born—and he took me away with him even though I looked a mess. And I guess that started it. I found men really liked what was between my legs but that was fine with me as long as they paid me well—and they did. He kept me with him for about two years but then he was shot in Elko and I finally made my way here."

I almost called her my own Cinderella but she wouldn't have understood; I found she could barely even read.

Honor was honest and I had to admire it and she knew that I was married but neither of us cared—after all, I couldn't marry her and she's really too young for me anyway. She's barely 21, I think, and I'm 36. I don't think she'd want to marry someone who's so much older than her. But before I go on with the story about that hot night and what happened that changed my life, I should tell you how I came to meet Honor and found my way to her bed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Second**

I was in town to meet up with Hoss and Joe at the Silver Dollar when I saw this young thing struggling to manage an oversized portmanteau—it was obviously too heavy for her. I thought she was just a child by her size but no child was ever built like that. I looked around, hoping someone else would help her and I could just go on my way; I didn't want to be late as I needed a cold beer and planned to join in the poker game I was sure Hoss had already started. And sometimes I'm just weary of being a Cartwright and having to be helpful and polite and being a goddamn good example. And now that I had a wife and child, I had to present myself as more of a "Good" citizen; it's a heavy, boring burden.

Just that morning, Hoss had said on the ride in that he felt lucky and Joe ragged on him about his "lucky feelings" and how he was probably confusing those with indigestion. Joe said that when "he" said he felt lucky, he meant that he was going to turn some girl upside down and show her what he had for her and that she would later swear that she was the one who got lucky.

I just smiled listening to my brothers, having no real interest; all I had on my mind was to pick up the bank statements so I could balance the Ponderosa books for the month of August. And since Peggy would be starting Grade 1 in another two weeks, I'd promised her I would buy some new ribbons for her hair. She was excited about starting school but Laura was worried-she worried about everything it seemed. I tried to lay her concerns to rest but she kept asking, "What if Peggy misses me? What if she cries or the other children pick on her?" No matter how many times I replied, hoping she would see things would be fine, she would still go on and on. Sometimes I just had to leave.

Laura tries my patience and I work to keep the edge from my voice whenever I answer one of her petulant questions but Laura's not stupid and I'm not that good at dissembling so she usually ends up pouting more and acting hurt and I end up apologizing for all the sins of the world. Early on in my marriage, I complained to my father under the guise of asking advice and although he never outright said it, I came away with the idea that Laura may very well be starting arguments so that she could avoid my sexual advances under the pretense of being hurt. I think my Pa knows how things are in my marriage although when we visit or he visits us, we're one happy family. In that regard, I had lived a lie for a whole year before I met Honor. But no more.

So that morning Hoss asked me to get him a hundred or so from the bank for gambling—"Gotta have a bigger stake than what's in my pocket to win big!"-and Joe laughed at Hoss' confidence. When we arrived in Virginia City close to noon, they went off and I was on my way back from the bank and putting the statements in my saddlebags when I saw Honor dragging her suitcase down the street, I had two hundred and some odd dollars in my pocket; a hundred for me and a hundred for Hoss. Pa forbade Joe to play cards anymore since the last time he did, he lost over a thousand dollars and Pa was livid; he ripped Joe a new asshole much to my and Hoss' amusement.

Anyway, as I said, I saw this lovely thing struggling and started on to the saloon but something—otherwise known as a conscience, something I have unsuccessfully been trying to shed as it would make life so much easier—made me turn around and approach her.

"Can I help you with that, Miss?" I was polite and tipped my hat and when she looked up at me with those sad green eyes, I swear my heart skipped a beat—I felt an actual pause as if time stood still for a millisecond. I can't explain what she did to me—other than make me hard—you'd understand that easy enough—but she reopened that hole in my heart, a yearning I had to love someone.

I know what you're thinking, that I have a father and two brothers and a wife and child to love—for I think of Peggy as my child, even now, but there are many variations of love and I wanted to love a woman with all my heart and soul. I'm not really a romantic and don't believe those passionate emotions are possible, well, not for longer than one night of fucking, but nevertheless, I wanted it. I just wanted to experience it before I died and it must be universal among men because I've read poetry and plays written by men all through history and they've all expressed the same emotion. It eases my feeling that I'm a goddamn fool to know I'm not alone.

So I saw Honor and the words from Marlowe's poem came to me with no prompting other than her mere presence: "It lies not in our power to love or hate, for will in us is overruled by fate…the love is slight, whoever loved that loved not at first sight?" So I like to think I was fated to love Honor even though I don't believe that we have no control over our behavior but it lets me feel less like an adulterous sonovabitch.

"No, thank you," she said, not even looking at me and continued dragging it down the street. Why she wasn't using the wooden walk puzzled me. The dirt was acting like a barrier and blocking her progress as it piled up.

"All right," I said and left but after a few steps, I turned on my heel and went back and took the portmanteau from her; I had to give the handle a little shake to get her to release it. She looked up at me in fear. I think she believed I was going to steal the goddamn thing.

"Where are you going, Miss? I'll carry this for you." I tipped my hat with my free hand, trying to seem friendly and harmless and finally she seemed to muster herself to accepting help.

"I…I'm looking for employment. I just got off the stage from Ash Fork and I'm looking for …a job."

So, I asked her what she did for a living. I told her my name and that I knew just about everyone as my family had lived in the area now for nigh onto 20 years; I could help her and was willing to help if she needed an introduction.

She blushed for some reason I hadn't yet discovered and I thought she looked prettier than any woman I had ever seen only she seemed like a girl, not just in size but she had a certain innocence, a naiveté about her.

"I don't have any profession—yet. I was looking for…" She blushed again. "I was hoping I could find a place with a bed that would let me work to earn money. You know…where other women work and make money pleasing men…"

I must have looked an idiot because I honestly had no idea what she meant; it was the last thing I would have guessed but finally it dawned on me; she wanted a job at a brothel. I laughed out loud at the prospect. She looked shocked—and then hurt. But for some reason, all right, the reason was that I was attracted to her, I wanted to help her so I made a job offer.

"I don't think that's for you—not here in Virginia City at least. They need an assistant cook at the Ponderosa, my family's ranch."

That was true. Hop Sing had fallen off a horse returning late at night from a fan tan game in Chinatown and sprained his left wrist. Actually, I'm still amazed he hasn't broken his neck by now as Hop Sing doesn't really ride—just manages to get on the horse's back, grabs the reins and the saddle horn and then kicks the horse and holds on while the horse jogs out and Hop Sing uncomfortably bounces along. Usually he takes a buggy or one of us drives him in but not when he goes to gamble—he's on his own then. Anyway, I wasn't ready for her response.

"I won't cook for anyone again or work in a kitchen or anywhere else as a servant and be told what to do. And the next time I pick up a kitchen knife in another person's house, it'll be to put through a man's heart."

I was taken aback. "Working as a whore is hard work too," I said with a slight grin. "You worked in one before?"

She paused for a moment. "No," she said quietly.

"You think no one's going to tell you what to do in a cat house? Make you work long hours? And if you rebel, say no to the madam, well, you'll be punished. And as for the "patrons," well, men can be cruel—outright mean."

"I know that about men, but everyone can be cruel—including me. And I know how to take care of myself." She tried to look intimidating but it was laughable. I couldn't see her standing up to a stinking, drunken cowboy and telling him no or defend herself from the heavy fists of a lumberjack.

But I couldn't stop smiling at her. She was feisty and determined and so very pretty, so lovely. "What's your name, girl?"

"Honor McCord…and I'm no girl." She tried to pull herself up straighter and taller.

"Fine," I said. "C'mon, Miss McCord. I know where you can stay and I'll pay for it—either for as long as you like or for two weeks." I started off but to Slim Reynold's mercantile; he owned a vacant house on the outskirts of town and I knew he'd been trying to rent it out but she stood planted in the spot. I turned back to her. "What's wrong?"

"Why? Why're you willing to pay for my room and board? Do you want me in return?"

I looked her up and down, trying to honestly see her, to understand why I felt about her the way I did. She was covered with dust from her trip and her clothes were worn hard—more than likely someone's cast-offs or hand-me-downs. She had a small smudge of dirt on one cheek and I wanted to pull out my handkerchief and wipe it off but I didn't have that right yet. Here I was thinking about tossing her skirts up and pounding into her and yet I felt I would be too forward if I touched her. She was a sad little thing and yet she had a glow about her. So I figured I'd be as honest with her as she had been with me and be able to direct her—actually frighten her-into another "profession."

"Yes, Miss McCord, you'd be mine to visit whenever I desired—any time of the day or night—or not. That's up to you. I'll pay the first two weeks of your rent gratis but I expect you to either let me keep you and enjoy you whenever I'm in town—like I said, whenever I want, or you can get a job doing something respectable. I'll consider my money well spent if you end up waiting on tables at the Imperial House, clerking in a store or taking up a needle as a seamstress-even selling drinks in a saloon. Anything but being used by all the cowhands, miners and lumberjacks who come through here. Five years underneath those men will age you twenty. You're too pretty for that, for being ridden by any sweaty, sloppy, drunk ranch hand who has two dollars in his pocket and who likes to backhand the whore after he's fucked her. Your choice, Miss McCord."

Honor paused, obviously considering what I had said. I waited and then finally she spoke with great gravity as if she was going to give some great, serious pronouncement. Funny, but her decision ended up have great ramifications that I, at the time, wouldn't have believed possible; my small Honor changed my life—saved my life and I owe her for my pursuant happiness.

She cleared her throat and not even smiling said, "All right, I'll accept your proposition. And you can call me Honor—not Miss McCord. But like I said, I'm not going to be ordered about—told what to do and all so I won't be working any of those respectable-like jobs you mentioned, so I guess we'll get to know each other pretty well, you and me. And what did you say your name was?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Third**

I had known Honor for about two months and spent every single moment with her that I could find away from my family—both Laura and Peggy and then my father and brothers. All I desired was to revel in the "rank sweat of an enseamèd bed, stewed in corruption, honeying and making love." I relished being with Honor, to have her wrap those legs of hers, so nice and round, about my waist and letting me rest my head between her breasts afterwards while she ran her fingers through my damp hair. What can I say? I like the animal aspects of sex, the pure joy of coupling, making "the beast with two backs" with someone who equally enjoys it and that's what was so rare about Honor; she actually delighted in the act.

But Honor also touched my vanity as well as my heart. After coupling, after we had been sated—at least for a time, I would give her lessons in basic mathematics and reading. I had brought her some of Peggy's old books, children's books, and Honor would haltingly read aloud to me. I taught her how to decipher words and she would glow with pride whenever she managed it. She would tell me I was the smartest man she'd ever known and refused to believe it when I told her there were many men smarter than I could ever hope to be. And after her lesson, I would reward her efforts with my undivided attention, with burying my face in her cleft and delighting her. But what Honor loved the most was when I'd tell her stories. I told her the plots of operas I knew, novels I read that I thought she'd like, and of Shakespeare's plays. I would recite any of the lines I could remember from my college days and one night I brought a volume of poetry and when I read her a poem by Thomas Wyatt and finished the last stanza:

 _And wilt thou leave me thus_  
 _And have no more pity_  
 _Of him that loveth thee?_  
 _Hélas, thy cruelty!_  
 _And wilt thou leave me thus?_  
 _Say nay, say nay!_

Well, Honor cried; she said it was too beautiful and that she understood what it was like to be left—as I left her alone so often and she never knew if I would ever return. And that was the closest she's ever come to telling me she loves me.

So a whole year went by and I paid the rent on that little furnished house a mile outside of town." I paid Slim Reynolds every month and that I would take care of the upkeep. I didn't trust Slim as he was a man as well and had a skinny harpy for a wife. How he could fuck that bag of bones is beyond me but then a man gets the urge and I guess it doesn't matter who's on the end of his cock. And maybe he gagged her to keep her silent while he went about his business—that's about the only way she could be kept from her persistent nagging, I'm sure.

Once month I went to pay the rent—it was about three months after Honor moved in. When I stepped inside the store, Slim glanced around and came from behind the counter to take me aside. Slim was waiting, practically shaking as he asked me, "Good God, Adam, who's that woman livin' in the house? Damn, Adam—I got so hard just lookin' at her, I was practically raised ten inches off my saddle!" He looked around to make sure his wife was still in the back of the store.

I was tempted to reply that he was giving himself quite a few extra inches of length, wasn't he, but decided not. "What were you doing out there, Slim? I pay you the rent and I take care of whatever needs done; you don't need to bother with anything."

"I just wanted to check on the place, you know. I do own it, Adam, so it's not like I ain't got no business there."

"You should send your wife next time. Does she know you went out there?" I hoped that was a subtle enough threat.

"Now look, Adam." Slim glanced behind him again. "I just visited her that once—I got no need to go out there again unless something happens but who is she? I mean she said her name was Miss McCord but who is she?"

"She's no one's business but mine—that's who she is."

Now Slim was angry. "Laura know about her?"

"Actually, no. And I see no reason to tell her." I stared at Slim and he broke out in a sweat. "If she found out, well, you know that both your wife and mine are on the Women's Church Auxiliary and Laura might ask your wife how helpful that extra $25.00 a month is. The do talk, don't they?" I crossed my arms across my chest and waited.

He swallowed deeply. "Yeah. I know how women talk. You here to pay?"

And Slim never mentioned Honor or the rented house again, just took my cash payments and slipped the money in his chest pocket making certain his wife wasn't around.

Every month I gave Honor a generous amount of money to buy herself clothes, and anything else she wanted but she didn't want much. She kept to herself the few times she went to town from what she told me and basically enjoyed being alone, "Except for you, Adam," she had said. And she started a garden, a kitchen garden, and sometimes I would ride up and catch her watering the rows of plants with a dented tin watering can or picking caterpillars off the vegetables; she would pad around barefoot, saying that she grew up barefoot and shoes always felt odd. But I didn't care if her feet were dirty or that the curls that had escaped her bun were stuck to her neck from sweating after gardening. I'd take her anyway and she would moan under me and I was happy.

But I do know that Honor's presence raised questions—and not just in town. Pa asked me about her.

"I've heard that your horse is often tied outside that house—for hours."

"Oh?" I said. "Who told you that?" It was a cold afternoon in November and it had been almost four months since I had started with Honor. It was after church and I was unhitching the horse to release into the corral while we ate and visited. Laura and Peggy were in the house wearing their Sunday best and waiting until Hop Sing served dinner—a good smoked ham and mashed potatoes with canned beans. I still remember the menu because Hoss was as eager as Peggy for the ham; Hoss had taught Peggy to put maple syrup on the ham slices and how to appreciate the melded sweet and salty, smoky taste of the combination.

My father looked uncomfortable as he asked me about my horse and the house, his hands deep in his dress pants pockets. That was his stance when he felt unsure or awkward. "Pastor Clark told me."

"Pastor Clark?" I laughed and released the horse with a light smack so that I could close the gate behind it. "Don't tell me he's been wandering the countryside sniffing out sin. Isn't that above and beyond his parochial duties?"

"Adam, I don't need any sarcasm—this is serious. Please take it that way. I wouldn't ask you except…Adam, who you courted, saw, had physical relations with has always been your business but now that you're married….Adam, it always leads to trouble." My father pulled his hands out of his pocket and grabbed my arm. It was as if he was desperately trying to save me and in a manner, I guess he was. I suppose when a man sees his child going down a road that will more or less end in tragedy at its worst and unhappiness at the least, he has to do something. "Listen to me, son. Somehow, the wife always finds out and everyone is hurt…I don't want that for you. More than anything else, I want you to be happy and despite my doubts about you and Laura marrying in the first place, you have, and you owe her your fidelity. Try to be happy, Adam. Just look at your marriage as a choice you've made and there are no other options. Just close yourself off to anything else. Please, Adam."

I sighed—I knew my father wanted the best for me, wanted happiness for me and I wanted to let him know I had found it—just not with Laura. "Pa, the lady who lives there…"

"From what I hear, if all of it's true, she's not a 'lady'. Adam, listen to me. Pastor Clark came by Thursday night. He said that Mrs. Reynolds came to him, worried her husband was mixed up in something wrong—something illegal. She'd found a few hundred dollars her husband had hidden…"

"The pastor's quite the gossip, isn't he?"

"Adam, would you listen? Just for once—listen and be serious! This all has something to do with you or Pastor Clarke wouldn't have come to me."

"All right. Say what you want to say to me." I knew what it was and already knew what I would say in reply but I would listen.

"Pastor Clark went to Slim and Slim confessed to him that he had hidden all the rent money you'd been paying him—didn't want his wife to find it and spend it. He said you were keeping a woman in his house outside of town and that's where the money came from. Anyway, he told the pastor it was a…that you wanted to keep it all a secret because she was your mistress. Is that true?"

I figured I might as well tell my father; Slim would more than likely tell his wife about it in order to explain his stash and if he did, then Laura would soon know as well. I had often wondered what she would do if she discovered I had a woman on the side and now I would soon find out because I planned, right then and there, on telling her that evening. I suddenly realized that I wanted to tell Laura, that I was tired of deceit.

"Yes, it's true. Her name's Honor McCord and I've been seeing her for quite a few months now—and plan to go on seeing her." My father started to protest but I stopped him. "Don't, Pa. I plan on telling Laura tonight. She deserves the truth."

"What? You can't do that unless you're ready to ask for forgiveness and forsaking the other woman…Adam, think. What about Peggy?"

That stopped me. Peggy wasn't my natural child but I adored her and the last thing I wanted was to hurt her. My father noticed my hesitation and took advantage of it.

"Peggy lost her father, a father she loved and who loved her and you know how devastated she was by it—you told me about it yourself. And now she has another father she loves, who she adores—you. She finally has a stable family life with your marriage and me and Joe and Hoss and you want to take it all away and for what? To free your conscience? So you can go to a kept woman instead of your chosen wife? What's going to happen to Peggy if Laura kicks you out? Consider it, Adam?"

"You said yourself the wife always finds out—somehow. How long do you think it'll take for her to know if Slim tells his wife? Best Laura hears it from me than from some gossip in town."

"Slim won't tell his wife—Pastor Clark assured me. But what he would like is for you to end your.."

"End my fornication? Was that the biblical term he used?"

"Adam…I just wish you…"

Peggy and Hoss came out on the porch and grinning, Hoss called out, "Supper's on. Best come in afore Peggy and me eat your portions as well as ours!" Peggy laughed, delighted with her uncle. She was a happy child and I wanted to keep her that way and I considered never visiting Honor again, never enjoying her flesh and warmth again. But I couldn't do it—just couldn't. So now you know what I'm really like.

"Let's go to dinner, Pa. I'm hungry.


	4. Chapter 4

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 **Fourth**

It might've been my imagination, but it seemed that at dinner that night, everyone, except for Peggy, seemed to avoid my eyes, to look elsewhere uncomfortably. Even conversation seemed awkward. I wondered if they all knew that I spent most of my evenings fucking a sweet young thing almost 15 years younger than me, and enjoying it beyond any dream of ecstasy. And looking at Laura in all her loveliness, my family as well as just about everyone else, I suppose, would wonder what in hell was wrong with me. Didn't I know when I had it good?

And Laura was lovely, tiny with long golden hair and bright blue eyes. And she didn't put her hair up as was de rigueur for married women, but let it flow about her shoulders, only the front contained in a small twist. She is a beautiful woman and sometimes I looked at her and feelings of desire would again stir. And Laura had the temperament of an angel—no—more like a martyr. Laura suffered magnificently! With her, it was an art. If I wounded her—even if it was a trifle, she would go about the house with her face drawn and each thing she did for me was obviously a chore borne of marital duty.

Needless to say, I thought long and hard about what my father had said. He was right about Peggy—it would break he heart if I left to be honest, I didn't want to hurt Laura either. I had toyed with plans of divorcing Laura but after reading up, it would have to be she who petitioned as I was the adulterous party. And the only other grounds for divorce were desertion for a lengthy time and fraud. Laura would never desert me—that I knew—and I couldn't desert her, just abandon her and all my responsibilities. I couldn't leave her and run off with Honor even though, if I did, I knew my father would take care of her. But although I am less than honorable in many ways, I can't do that. So that night I lay in the dark and thought about my alternatives. I knew that months ago I had started a dangerous chain of events but I wasn't sorry. In a small way I was, but on the whole I wasn't; the past few months had been wonderful. Each morning I woke up thinking about Honor, eager to see her and some days, I would go to her about noon and feast on her instead of the packed lunch in my saddlebags. And I would luxuriate in her bed while she ran her mouth and hands over me; I even taught her some things she hadn't known about, the many ways to thrill a man with her fingers and lips; she learned quickly and became surprisingly adept. Those same lessons were wasted on Laura; "whore's tricks" she called them and they were, but I thought she might like performing them better than being entered—I was wrong. She preferred to lay still and passive instead of taking an active part.

But I glanced over at Laura as she slept and decided to stay away from Honor. Oh, I'd continue to take care of her, pay her rent, send her money but I'd stay away from her—refuse the temptation of her body-and make a true effort to be a good husband and a better father.

After all, I had married Laura on my own free will, had decided that I would help her work through her problems with intimacy and that although she had suffered at the hands of Frank Dayton, her first husband, I would be better. Laura had married young, very young, and her mother hadn't properly prepared her for the hungers that drive men to rut. And when Frank took his young bride despite her tears and resistance, she came to hate the act and to hate him. But I was so full of hubris I was certain that things would be different with me. After all, I loved her and she loved me and so our coming together would be delicious. I was a fool.

I was tender on our wedding night, kissing Laura gently, touching her with trepidation lest she pull away, and whispering of my love for her. And she trembled, and smiled through her tears and bravely endured the few minutes it took for me to find satisfaction between her legs. And then, I swear this, she sighed in relief and once I was on my back and off her, she went to wash. And once a week she allowed me to take her while over time, she became more and more tense. I think she truly believed that I would eventually become bored with the act; it just shows how very little she actually knew about men. And when I thought back on that first night and all the subsequent nights, I realized how much Honor meant to me as far as letting me feel like a man, but for my wife and child, for the sake of my father, I would give her up; it would be for the best.

A month and a half went by and I stayed away from Honor, spent nights at home and Peggy was delighted I was there. I helped her with her letters and she would sit at the dining room table with me and instead of a slate, she printed out the alphabet on sheets of paper with a pencil I had to repeatedly sharpen as she snapped off the led tip with all the pressure she put on it. And the whole while Peggy would chatter on about school and her teacher and the other girls and the awful boys who teased them and chased them about the schoolyard before the bell. Peggy made sounds of disdain, looked as if she tasted something sour when she spoke about Tommy Dawson which made both Laura and me smile; we knew about those early crushes and how one spoke of the first crush; heaven forbid anyone should see through the transparency of feigned contempt to the real feelings.

But helping Peggy was tinged with sadness as I would think of Honor and her basic lessons in reading and writing and arithmetic. And my mind would wander wondering how she was, if she missed my company, my conversation or missed me physically. And I both feared and hoped she would ride up to my house one day and ask for me. I longer for her, yearned for her, to kiss her, to smell her and taste her skin and her secret recesses. But I would push thoughts of her out of my mind, knowing I was trying to save my marriage. And I might have succeeded except that one night I had shaved as I usually did when I wanted Laura—she had early on complained about my heavy beard rubbing her cheeks raw—and we were readying for bed. It was when I pushed her hair aside and kissed the back of her neck that Laura, pulling away, asked me what was wrong with me lately.

"Nothing's wrong with me. Why?" I was almost undressed and while I talked, I pulled down my dungarees and threw them in the corner with my shirt and socks.

"Adam, can't you fold them neatly? They need washing and in the morning, I'll have to pick them up off the floor. Is it too much to ask you to make my life a little easier by folding them neatly and putting them in the hamper in the washroom?"

"I'm sorry. I'll do it in the morning. Let's just go to bed. C'mon." I stood for a few minutes, my urgency already obvious. She looked at me, at my eager member and turned away.

"Adam things have been different and I don't know why. The past few weeks you've been home almost every night—you even came to Bible study with us last Wednesday. You never do that. What's wrong?"

I crawled under the sheets and turned on my side to wait for her. "Nothing's wrong. Now come to bed. C'mere." I put one arm out and folded the sheet back, welcoming her.

Laura moved closer to the bed, her mouth grim. "Adam, I know what my duty is and I don't begrudge you your rights…but lately you've been after me more than usual. I mean for a while there you let me be but…"

"Wait a minute." I sat up. "Did you hear yourself? Laying with me is a duty? You don't 'begrudge" me my rights? I make an effort to give you more attention, to spend more time with you and Peggy and you don't seem to like it, especially not when I want to be with you…like husband and wife." I knew I had to be carefully, choose my words carefully or Laura wouldn't even listen. "What do you want from me, Laura? I just want us to be happy and I thought that being around more, being with you more would do it. You complained I was gone too much and now that I'm home more…"

"Adam!" Laura threw her hands up in frustration. "I talk to other married women, you know! And it seems from what they've said, you're not normal…in your…in your…appetites!"

I felt the hairs stand up on the back of my neck; she knew about Honor, about my supporting her and keeping her as my woman—I was sure of it and at that moment, I was prepared to confess it all and how I had changed my ways—forsaken Honor McCord and her slick, nubile body. But I shouldn't have been worried about that.

"I know, from the things they say while we're quilting or discussing Bible passages, that most husbands only approach their wives for…they only desire their wives twice a month or even less. And most women…they find it a chore and messy; I don't feel so alone anymore. I'm not unnatural as Frank used to say. So I just don't understand why you're this way, why your lust is so unnatural!"

"Laura, it's not unnatural for a man to want his wife."

"In Collosians, it says…" she thought and then recited the passage she had obviously gone through great pains to memorize: "Put to death therefore what is earthly in you: sexual immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire and covetousness. Notice it says, passion, Adam. And it also mentions sexual immorality. Some of the things you want us to do together, well, they're immoral."

"Immoral?" I laughed. "Oh, Laura, you just don't change at all, do you? Do you wish me dead too?" I knew I shouldn't have said that; it was cruel to throw Laura's troubles with Frank in her face. "I'm sorry. I take that back."

"It's just like you isn't it? You're always so sarcastic. And there are more verses prohibiting congress for any reason other than procreation. You think it's mainly for pleasure and that since I'm here in the house, well…" She grasped the neck of her nightgown closed and wrapped her other arm over her stomach, grasping her waist.

"Let me tell you what It also says in the Bible," I said, pushing off the covers and standing up on the other side of the bed, "And the man and his wife were both naked and not ashamed. Do you ever think of that, Laura? You and your goddamn modesty. Even now, you're averting your eyes so you don't have to look at me. But I'll relieve you of that burden."

I pulled fresh clothes from the bureau and quickly dressed while Laura quietly watched, too surprised for once to speak until finally she asked, "Where are you going?"

"Out. I need a beer." I pulled on my boots and turned to her. "I might stay in town so don't worry if I'm not here in the morning. Bolt the door after me." And I left Laura standing alone in the bedroom; I imagine she slept well without me next to her.

All the lights were off in the little house on the edge of town and although I had a key, I didn't want to scare Honor. Besides, I had put bolts on both the front and back doors so I knocked…and waited. And my heart which had been pounding with anticipation, calmed when I heard Honor's sweet voice.

"Who is it?"

"It's Adam Cartwright. Honor, you can tell me to leave and I will. I understand. I know it's been…" I heard the heavy bolt being thrown and the door opened and Honor stood looking at me. I couldn't see her expression well due to the lack of light. "Honor, I…" But I had no chance to say anything else.

Without a word, Honor reached up and touched my face and it was all I could do to keep my emotions from overwhelming me. I pulled her into my arms and the self-imposed drought was over; all my resolve to resist her dropped away. I kissed her hungrily and she responded. Suddenly, with her in my arms, my mouth on hers and feeling the suppleness of her body pressed against mine, I felt that all was as it should be. I was back with my Honor and I spent the whole night with her, not regretting one moment. We pleased each other and I luxuriated again in bed with her, and on her or underneath her as she took on the superior position. And when our lust and desire were sated, we finally slept wrapped in each other's arms. And I never again wanted to leave her—and I whispered it to her as she slept, swearing an oath to take care of her forever.


	5. Chapter 5

**Fifth**

So it was hot that August when the bank in Virginia City was robbed; most people stayed inside with their shades drawn to keep the house as cool as possible during the hottest part of the day and the few people who were out and not in a bar or at home or sweltering in starched shirts and celluloid collars in some business office or clerking in a store, were considering how to stay cool. Many a man stopped in front of a horse trough and splashed themselves with the pump water, wetting the back of their necks on days like that.

My father was in town to deposit a check from a San Francisco lumber company and that's why the robbers weren't interested. Otherwise the Ponderosa would've lost $6,000.00. The lone teller inside the bank was shot and killed for no reason except the joy of killing—at least according to my father since he had already handed over what was in his cash drawer. It was that one of them was angry there was so little money so he just pulled the trigger and when the teller slammed against the back wall, the shooter laughed. My father said the teller slid down to the floor and left a smear of blood on the wall but that fcat he kept from the man's wife.

My father witnessed it all as he was in the bank when it happened, only he and a townswoman who hid her face against my father's chest during the hold-up, his arms around her protectively. He said she clutched his vest and prayed over and over that God would protect them all; I guess God picks and chooses. The men escaped with the money, three of them. One was arrested two days later by Sheriff Coffee and his deputy, Clem Foster. Well, actually, he wasn't arrested until he was brought to the Ponderosa and my father identified him as the man who shot the clerk. It had been my father's description that had caused the man to be picked up off the street that evening.

"You sure now, Ben?" Roy asked. Clem stood behind Roy and the silent man in handcuffs, all three standing on the Indian rug in front of the door. It was a Sunday evening and Laura, upon my urging, had taken Peggy upstairs once Roy told his business and before the man had been brought in.

"I'm sure," my father said, staring at the man. "He's the one. They were so brazen they didn't even bother to cover their faces. I'll never forget him; he shot Thompson for no reason except pure meanness, pure spite—they already had the money." My father paused and then asked, "What's his name?" I don't think he wanted to give the man the respect of asking him what his name was but I don't think he would have said—probably would've just told my father to go fuck himself.

"Not sure," Roy replied. "He won't say anything—says he doesn't have to. Just claims he doesn't know why we picked him up as he was only coming into town for a beer. But he was asking around about the witnesses to the bank robbery—buying rounds of drinks for everybody. We think he was looking to do away with Mrs. Digsby and you—seems he was asking where the woman who witnessed the robbery lived. Said he wanted to talk to her since he was a friend of Thompson and Sol Owen got suspicious and came to the office to get me. I still have some sheriffs to wire and wanted posters to go through."

"But Mrs. Digsby didn't see anything; she hid her face the whole time."

"Well, either he didn't know that or wasn't taking a chance. I'm gonna have to leave Clem here tonight to keep an eye out in case someone wants to shut you up as well. I'll rotate some other people I deputized for a posse. After all, there were three of them and I have a pretty good idea who they are."

"Roy, I think I can take care of myself and it's not as if I'm alone here," My father motioned toward Hoss and Joe. "We're all good shots and we've been through worse."

"I agree with Roy," I said from the settee where I was sitting. The suspect stared at me as if I had no right to an opinion and his glare was surprisingly intimidating; I suddenly truly feared for my father's life. With the other two men still on the loose and my father as the only witness, it was chancy to be on the Ponderosa with no law. Oh, we'd weathered many threats before but there was something about this man that made me anxious. I think Roy felt the same.

"Don't worry, Mr. Cartwright," Clem said, "I'll stay inconspicuous. There are still two other men out there and you're the only real witness as you said. They may regret not killing you the first time and I'm determined to stop them from trying to rectify their mistake."

My father looked at me and I nodded. He glanced at Joe and Hoss and they both nodded as well.

"Okay, Clem. Have you eaten yet?"

"No, sir, I haven't." Clem grinned. I found that I liked him; he was intelligent and professional and Roy had once confided to me that with another year or two of experience, he might just retire and let Clem run for sheriff.

"Hop Sing!" My father, ever the gracious host, called out, and Hop Sing came from the kitchen; he had obviously been washing dishes, suds were high on his wrists and he was wiping his hands on his apron.

"Are there enough leftovers that Deputy Foster here can have a little something to eat?"

"You come with me," Hop Sing said grinning and nodding, always happy to feed anyone. "You like nice roast beef sandwich? Maybe little gravy on top?"

"I like that fine! And if you have something cold to drink, I'd be much obliged."

We stayed only a short bit after Roy and his prisoner had left and I was glad the man hadn't seen Laura or Peggy. I had a bad feeling about the man; he seemed coldly evil—no passion. That's always worse, when a killer has no emotions to be touched. It does no good for someone to beg for their life when their tormentor can't identify with the emotions. And as we rode home, only a short way from the Ponderosa, I kept looking about, seeing if there was anyone on the horizon or standing just inside the forest line watching us pass.

"What's wrong, Adam?" Laura had noticed my edginess.

I glanced down at Peggy in Laura's arms.

"She's already asleep. What is it?"

"The bank robber who killed Riley Thompson was arrested; that's why Roy came by—to have my father identify him. I'm worried about you and Peggy. You're alone all day while Peggy's in school and then drive to pick her up by yourself. I want you to stay at the Ponderosa. It's going to be watched by a deputy just in case—it'll be safer with my family and the hands there."

"If you stayed home more, both during the day and nights…well, we'd be safer. I'd rather stay in my own home."

I could feel the anger rising and gripping my throat but I was determined not to be sarcastic so in a calm voice, I said, "You didn't like it much when I was home every night, if I recall."

"It wasn't that I didn't like you home, it was that you treated me like a commodity." Laura looked down at Peggy who still slept. "You never even considered that I might get with child again."

"Would that have been so awful? To have my child?" I looked at her and again I had to concede that Laura was beautiful and that our children would, hopefully, be as lovely as she was.

She turned to me, upset. "You don't understand, Adam. Having a child isn't easy and it was horrible for me. Men don't understand the pain and the risk…" She stopped talking and her lower lip quivered. I didn't like hurting her and she did have a point about giving birth; many a wife died giving birth and if the child didn't die as well, it became a burden for the widower and usually unwanted.

I had mentioned pregnancy to Honor on occasion, told her that if she had a child, I would always see to it, recognize it publicly as mine but she touched me in that way she has—a gentle, light touch on my face that always makes me want to beg for more like a dog yearning for affection, and told me not to worry; she knew how to take care of herself, to take care of such things. And it was always a relief to me when it was her time of the moon; we still went on with our relations but things were messy. And in many ways, I was more relaxed knowing that the only consequence of our "deed of kind," would be the smears on my groin and the towel beneath us.

"I'm sorry, Laura." It seemed I was always apologizing to her. "But even if I could be home most of the time, something still might happen."

"Adam, do you really think that something might happen?" She wiped her eyes with one gloved hand. "You weren't at the bank—you're not a witness. Why would they want to do anything to you or us?"

"These men aren't rational and vengeance is far encompassing. They may want to hurt my father if they can't get to him and since the Ponderosa is going to be well-guarded…please, Laura…" I chose not to tell her about the way the man had looked at me. It still made me uneasy, maybe more so in retrospect. "Please do this. It's for the best. Just pack some clothes and whatever else you and Peggy need and in the morning, I'll drop the two of you off at the main house. I'll let Miss Raintree know Peggy will be out for a few days."

"But she loves school—it will break her heart to stay out, and really, she shouldn't miss any. She'll get behind."

"It's only grade 1. You and I can keep her up to date. I'll ask what she's supposed to learn the coming week. And she may have to stay out of school even longer depending on how things go, the trial and all." I kept looking around even when we entered the front gate. The house was dark. There were no ranch hands on the property as the same hands that tended to the Ponderosa tended my property when I needed them. I took care of the horses on the main and Laura milked the cows and fed the chickens. I'd gladly take over those chores as long as Laura and Peggy were safer than out here all alone.

So, albeit reluctantly, Laura and Peggy were safely ensconced at the Ponderosa and beside the two deputies that Roy assigned, either Joe or Hoss and a few of the ranch hands took turns sitting up with a rifle waiting for possible trouble. I had dinner with my family every night and after checking my house, I would head over to Honor.

I guess now we're back at the start of my story and as I told you, it was hot. The upstairs windows were open but the air was still and I swear we had steam rising off of us. Usually it cooled off some at night but lately it stayed hot. But despite our sweat and smell and the slickness of her body—or maybe because of it as I do have a "nostalgie de la boue," as the French say, a yearning for wallowing in the metaphorical mud upon occasion, I was enjoying Honor, holding back so that she could find her pleasure first. She was making moans and twisting underneath me when I heard a gun cocked behind me. I froze, turned slightly and saw the shadow of a man behind me. I reached for my gun; my gun belt was hanging on the brass bedpost but a man's voice said, "Don't even try it, mister, or I'll blow your goddamn head off."


	6. Chapter 6

**Warning: Mistreatment of women. Just be aware of it.**

 **Sixth**

A small cry escaped Honor. I put myself in front of her and reached for the sheet to help cover her nakedness but again, I was ordered with a gun barrel aimed at my face, not to move. There were two men standing in the dark room and each held a six-shooter pointed at me. So Honor and I just sat there in the rumpled bed, naked as the day we were born. Honor covered her breasts with her crossed arms but one of the men just laughed at her modesty.

"See," one of the men said, "I told you he comes here every night to visit his whore after he leaves the Ponderosa. And then he spends it fuckin' the bitch."

They both laughed and I imagine we looked pretty ridiculous. They had seen my ass bobbing up and down, my thrusting into Honor. And I wondered how long they'd watched Honor, her hands gripping at my shoulders, her legs locked around me, her head thrown back, while we coupled. Copulation is undignified, to say the least—humiliating at the most.

"Guess we showed up at a bad time, Cartwright. Apologies. Shoulda watched a few more minutes until you came but well, we're kinda in a hurry." He grinned and the other chuckled.

"What do you want?" I could feel Honor huddled against my back. But I knew what they wanted, more or less. These were the other two men who robbed the bank. I was sure of it; they wanted me to barter for the man's freedom; not an original idea but often successful.

"First," the tallest and biggest one said, "I want to take a good look at her. It's been awhile since I had me a woman. Get out here and show me what you got that brings him here every night-other than what every woman has. C'mon," he motioned with his gun. "Get outta that bed."

"Adam," Honor whispered to me. I could feel her fear, hear it in her voice.

"Leave her alone." I knew I was bluffing; I wouldn't be able to stop them from doing anything they wanted. But an idea suddenly came to me. If they were busy looking at Honor, maybe even decided to touch her, to slip their filthy fingers where I had been that evening, I might be able to get to my gun. So you can see what a dilemma I faced. But I couldn't have her stand there like a mare on an auction block and be fondled and groped by these two men, gun or no gun.

"And just what are you going to do, Cartwright, to stop us? Huh? You going to get up outta that bed and beat us down with that cock of yours?" They laughed again, glancing at each other, enjoying their joke.

"Yeah," the shorter one said. "That seems to be the only muscle you got."

"Now get out of that bed, girl. Let us take a good, long, look at what you got." They both grinned in anticipation and in the fact that they had me at their mercy.

Honor started to move and had one bare leg on the floor when I grabbed her wrist. "Don't."

"Cartwright," the biggest said, "What's wrong with you? You think I won't shoot you right through that hard head of yours or shoot her? Hell, I've killed whores before—ain't nothin' to it."

"It's all right, Adam," Honor said softly, touching my shoulder. "It's all right-really." But I couldn't let her go. I gripped her still and she attempted with her other hand to pry my fingers away. "Please, Adam," she whispered and then I reluctantly released her.

Honor stood in the middle of the room and the younger of the two walked up to her and gave an appreciative whistle as he appraised her. "I don't blame you, Cartwright. She's one lovely thing. Hell," he said, grinning, "look at this!" He grabbed one of Honor's breasts and cupping it, shook it, looking at the other man who grinned back. "I wonder iffen I could get that whole thing in my mouth."

"I wonder if she can get my whole cock in her mouth."

"Yeah, shame we gotta shoot her." Then as if he had a brilliant idea, his face lit up. "Think I can take her first? It shouldn't take too long." He turned back to her. "Might as well let her know what a real man's like before she dies."

My mind was racing; I had to do something but I didn't know what. I sized up the big man. I could probably take him down but didn't know about keeping him down. But then he looked at me and at her.

"I've changed my mind. We're gonna take her along. No reason we can't enjoy the time before they let Zac go. Then, once Zac is safe, well, we'll shoot them both."

That, as ridiculous as it may sound, relieved me. The more time we had, the greater the odds we could escape. But no matter what, I didn't like what it meant for Honor but having those two on top of her was a better prospect that having six feet of Nevada soil piled on top of her.

Honor and I dressed as instructed and then marched outside where I had my hands tied behind me and shoved up and onto my horse; my holster and gun were still hanging on the bed post. Before we rode away I saw the window in the parlor they had pried open to get inside and upstairs to us. If Honor hadn't been enjoying herself so much, I might have heard them before they held a gun to my head. But that's moot as I was a prisoner and so was Honor and I had no idea where we going.

Honor sat in front of the younger of the two and he fondled her the whole ride. She said nothing nor did she protest. Just the opposite, she bridled and made small noises of pleasure as he pinched her breasts and kissed her neck, even once sliding his hand under her skirt, raising it high enough to expose her round, white thigh gleaming in the moonlight. He must have then touched her between her legs because she arched her back in pleasure and I wondered if she was enjoying his attentions—she seemed to. And I had a sour taste—like acid—in my throat; Honor didn't love me—Honor loved being taken care of and fucked on a regular basis. I knew there were women like that, women who needed a man every night if possible and they didn't do it for money. Whores I had been to in the past didn't particularly care for the act, tolerated it and often tried to behave enthusiastically—rarely was it a pleasure for them instead of a chore. But there were women who had an insatiable lust for men—any man—who'll fuck them. I wondered if Honor was one of them.

The sun was still some time from coming up when we arrived at a shack of types on a piece of property to the east of the Ponderosa—we had apparently, from the position of the moon, cut across a corner of the Ponderosa. It appeared to have been a mining shack as a fast-moving steam was nearby and abandoned pans and a gravel sifter were stacked near the place.

I was pulled off my horse and ended up in the dirt. They laughed and the bigger poked the other in the ribs. I knew what was going on. They were going to try to humiliate me while I was their prisoner and I promised myself I would just endure it. And I soon saw the reason the biggest one whose name was Jance, decided to bring Honor along.

As soon as I was shoved into a corner of the shack and a lamp lit, the younger one kissed Honor in front of me and then took her to the cot against the wall and having her strip off her dress and pull off her shoes, enjoyed her. Honor cried in delight as he entered her and wrapped her legs around him as she had with me. And she moaned in pleasure and kissed him passionately. I wanted to look away but that goddamn bastard Jance held a gun to my temple and said that if I looked away, he'd "shove this fuckin' gun barrel up her and fire off a whole round. You wanna see that?"

So I watched. And then I watched Jance take her while Randy, the other one, held a gun and repeated the threat. And he actively watched, encouraging the bigger one to take Honor only Jance was cruel. I knew he must be hurting her but Honor only seemed to like it more. And afterwards, she rolled over to face the wall, drawing her knees up, her clothing in a pile on the filthy floor, and slept.

Jance stretched after his exertion and buttoned himself back up. "Well, Cartwright, we want to deliver a note to your daddy. If he doesn't take back what he said about Zac robbin' the bank and killin' that teller, well, your dead body is going to be dumped somewhere on the Ponderosa. Why you might even be unrecognizable after the wolves or coyotes get to you. Imagine all the ants and flies buzzin' around you, laying their maggots in your rottin' flesh."

Jance laughed and sat down at the small table. I was still relegated to the corner, my arms pinioned behind me.

"Not a pleasant prospect," I said. "But you plan on killing me anyway, don't you?"

"Now maybe I won't if you're a good boy. Your daddy did raise you to be a good boy didn't he?" Jance laughed at his question and Randy who was sipping from a bottle of cheap whiskey laughed as well. "But that's right—you're a bad boy. Why you got a pretty wife—real pretty from what I've seen—and a little girl and where do we find you? Waist deep in some whore. But like you could see, that little whore of yours—well, she used to be yours but now she's ours and she finally knows what a real man is like and what a real man can do. I think I'll just take her with us when we move on. We're used to sharin' things, the three of us brothers. She'll be passed around like that bottle of whiskey there." Randy handed the bottle to Jance who took a slug. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "And I guarantee you she'll like it."

Jance yawned and stretched again. "Only thing about fuckin'—makes me sleepy. Randy, I'm gonna take a little nap and then we'll get our business done with Cartwright here. We been up half the night. Keep an eye on him." Jance nodded to indicate me and then he walked to the cot and pushed Honor to the wall so that he could lie down. She moved and made a small noise, flattening herself against the wall.

"Damn, girl! You smell like you been spreadin' your legs for months without a bath! Afore I fuck you again, I want all that Cartwright spunk washed off you." A few minutes later, one arm thrown across Honor's waist, he was snoring. I wanted more than anything else to kill him and to slap Honor. I've only raised my hand to one other woman in my whole life but I think that if I was alone with Honor at that time, I would've struck her and spouted how detestable she was and what a goddamn fool I had been to be won over by a slick, hot cunt. I knew I was to blame; being with Honor had dulled my judgment. I couldn't think clearly with her underneath me or even in the same room but no more. I was determined that if I survived, I'd give her money and tell her to get her shapely ass on the next stage out of Virginia City. And then I'd go to the Bucket of Blood and buy beers all around to celebrate the last of her.

I also thought about Laura and Peggy. It was Peggy who worried me the most; if I was killed, well, she would cry more than Laura—I was sure of that. And although I knew that my family would see to them, take care of them and love them, I still felt guilt. I had been a lust-driven, selfish sonovabitch who cared more for a little dark-haired whore than Laura and Peggy; I deserved whatever I got—even if it was to finally see Honor's true nature; she liked being fucked and she didn't care much by whom. I had been her tool of provisions and had craved affection so much, needed a woman's touch to such a degree that I fell for a common slut. It was laughable.

The younger man, Randy, made coffee, poured himself a cup and then laced it with whiskey. I could have used one too but I'd be damned before I'd ask for anything. I guess I dozed off for a while because my eyes snapped open when I heard Randy waking up Jance.

"Hey, it must be about noon. Get up, Jance. Get up."

Needless to say, Jance wasn't any too happy at being jostled by anyone and swung out. Randy, obviously familiar with waking up his brother, jumped back before a punch landed. But I was focused on Honor. She sat up, not even trying to cover her nakedness. And I guess I really saw her for the first time. She was beautiful—anyone could see that. Her face was lovely—gentle—reminded me of a painting I saw in Italy of the Virgin Mary painted by an Italian artist, Andrea del Sarto. I remember being told by my guide that the model was Sarto's wife who was unfaithful to him, duplicitous, but del Sarto gave up everything, his reputation and his residence, for her. I guess I wasn't the first man willing to throw-over everyone and everything he knew and held dear for a lovely face and a tight fit.

"Girl," Jance said, sitting on the side of the bed, "Put your clothes on. You sittin' around like that gets me hard and I got things to do." He pinched one of her breasts and she winced slightly; he laughed and stood up. He stretched and Honor crawled off the cot and slipped on the little cotton dress she had put on in her bedroom. It was shapeless really and she hadn't had time to put on any undergarments. But she gave it shape and it was obvious she was naked underneath. She slipped her feet in the little low-heeled shoes she had worn and her dark, hair fell in thick curls about her face when she leaned over. When she stood up, she pushed the hair away from her face with one hand and looked at me. I stared back and found nothing, no message in her gaze. She sat back down on the bed, her hands folded in her lap.

"Get up here," Jance said to me. He was on one side of me and Randy was on the other. They each put a hand under my arms and jerked me to my feet and shoved me toward a wooden chair. "Sit your ass down." I was pushed down to sit the rickety wooden chair. There were two pieces of dirty creased paper before me. The dirt was obviously from unwashed hands and the creases from being folded, probably to carry in a pocket. A small, dull pencil was also on the table top. "You're going to write a note to your daddy, understand? After I untie you, you're gonna write exactly what I say and don't get smart—we both can read. Our momma took care of that. Understand what you're gonna do?"

He smiled at me and unfortunately, my reply was, "You can fuck your momma and your brother too—I'll be damned be if I'm gonna write any note." And I felt his ham-fist slam against my jaw and knock me out of the chair and onto the floor. My head spun as the pain shot up the side of my face; it even ached inside my ear. I thought for sure my jaw was broken.

And I heard Honor gasp. I would have told her I didn't need her pity and that she could spend the rest of her life fucking horses—or those two men, one and the same as far as smell-but I couldn't speak. I could only lay there and wait for the pain to subside. I didn't think it ever would.


	7. Chapter 7

**Seventh**

The two men jerked me up and shoved me back into the chair. I could barely hold up my head; the only other man I know who can punch like a mule kicks is my brother Hoss. The two men sat in the other kitchen chairs and Honor still sat on the cot, only now she was gripping the edge of it. Jance yawned. I wanted to say something sarcastic like, "Sorry you find beating the shit out of me so boring." Fortunately for me, my jaw still wouldn't move. The pain had radiated even up to my eye.

"Get your ass off that cot and make me some coffee," Jance ordered Honor. I realized that Honor hadn't yet said anything. She had moaned a bit and made small sounds that could have been of pleasure or pain as Jance rode her, but otherwise, she said nothing. "And fry up some of that bacon over there." He turned as Honor slowly walked to the small stove. "See that bag?" She nodded. "That's bacon we picked up and there's some bread wrapped in that oiled paper. Make me and Randy here something to eat. Cartwright don't need to eat—he ain't gonna live long enough anyway to work up an appetite." And Jance smiled at me again.

Randy untied my wrists and I had to rub them. The blood rushed back into my hands and I flexed my fingers to soothe the stinging sensation. I considered my next action. I could punch one of them but then the other could quickly pull his gun and shoot me. But if an opportunity presented itself, I would take it. I may die but at least I wouldn't die like a rabid dog shot down in the street.

"Now," Jance said, "I want you to write your daddy a note." He held the pencil in front of me and tapped on the paper. "Start it out by calling him whatever you do—pappy, daddy, sonovabitch—whatever."

I picked up the pencil and then slammed it on the tabletop.

"No," I managed. I waited for his fist to come down on me again but he shifted in his chair.

He sighed. "Why do you make all this trouble for yourself?"

I glanced at Honor as I truly expected this to be the last time I'd see her. After all, if I were they, I'd kill me and then, with a note tucked in my shirt pocket, threaten to eventually kill all of Ben Cartwright's sons unless he retracted his identification of the killer of the teller. Fortunately, they didn't think the same way as I did. And Honor was busy in the kitchen. Having wiped out the fry pan with the hem of her dress, she opened and closed the few kitchen drawers the wooden counter held.

"You're right handed, aren't you, Cartwright?" I didn't reply. So Jance stood and held my left hand by its wrist, pushing it firmly onto the table. I tried to curl my fingers so they didn't flat on the table but I couldn't. I wasn't going to give up though; I struggled to stand up but then a bandana was looped about my throat and I felt Randy pulling it tighter until I could see spots before my eyes; I was about to pass out but then the pressure was released and I sucked in air. The bandana was still about my neck, randy loosely holding the ends while my lungs pulled in air.

"Now," Jance said, standing up, "I'm gonna ask you again to write this here letter and if you refuse, you're gonna lose one of your fingers. If you still persist in being dumb as horse shit stubborn, we'll start taking your toes and then, well, it looks like we'll just have to cut off that cock you're so proud of. Now, what's it going to be?"

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't afraid—I was. I anticipated the pain of a lost finger and the only bright spot was that I'd probably bleed out really quickly after the castration.

"Now pick up the pencil and write what I say to your daddy."

"No."

Jance laughed. "You're one goddamn fool for pain, ain't you, Cartwright." With his free hand, he reached inside his vest and pulled out a cruel knife; it was in a sheath on a strap like a shoulder holster. I waited and then I felt the blade start to slowly cut though my finger. I gritted my teeth, determined not to scream. But Jance suddenly stopped, the knife dropped from his hand onto the table top, the other hand loosed my wrist and his eyes were wide with surprise.

"What is it?' Randy asked. Jance said nothing, just backed up a step or two, his mouth open and then I saw Honor step back from behind him. Randy dropped the bandana and moved around to his brother and Jance dropped like a felled tree. Randy caught him, struggling to hold him up and then both of us saw the kitchen knife sticking from his back. Honor must have hit his heart directly because Jance never said another word, just died in his brother's arms with only a deep rattle in his lungs and blood beginning to drip from his open mouth.

I moved quickly and pulled the gun from Randy's holster, holding it on him. I didn't know if I could trust Honor; maybe she killed Jance because he had bitten her breasts during their coupling but I wanted to believe she had stabbed him to save me.

"Honor, get Jance's gun." Honor paused for a moment and then pulled Jance's gun from its holster. She moved beside me.

"Adam, your hand…you're bleeding."

"You think I don't know that?" Blood was dripping heavily from my finger. "I'm not about to bleed to death from this. Give me that." I jerked the gun from her hand, wincing at the pain in my hand. "Now get that rope they used on me and tie his arms behind his back, understand?"

She looked at me but I wasn't about to be mollified by those large, dark eyes of hers and their sad expression. Then Honor nodded and quickly did as I asked, fetching the rope and after Randy dropped his brother's body to the floor, Honor tied his wrists together. Then, not trusting her, I checked the knots.

I wrapped the bandana around my hand and after hearing Randy's threats along the lines of how he was going to get me and "that back-stabbing, goddamn, fuckin' bitch-whore. I'm gonna shove a knife up her cunt and slice her up the middle," Honor and I rode into town and to Sheriff Coffee's. Neither of us spoke except for Randy who kept up his threats until he finally broke into a sob and then he said no more. I guess he was about Joe's age—young really.

And this is where it becomes awkward—and that's an understatement. It was about three in the afternoon—we'd been riding for almost two hours when the three of us pulled our horses up in front of the sheriff's office-me looking like hell warmed over, Honor looking like a woman who'd been used hard and Randy, subdued and with his head hanging. People had stared at us as we rode down the main street of Virginia City and now they stood in small groups or alone and watched, pointing and speaking in hushed voices.

My whole left hand throbbed and I was still bleeding having soaked the bandana, so I couldn't pull Randy down from the horse and I didn't think Honor could manage it so I stepped inside the office, stopping inside the door to keep an eye on the prisoner and Honor. Roy Coffee looked from his desk; his mouth dropped open and he pulled off his spectacles as he stood up.

"Adam, what the…?"

"I need some help, Roy. I have one of the bank robbers out here—the third one's dead in an abandoned miner's shack about a mile east of the Ponderosa—the house, not the property. You can cut across the lower east pastures—takes about two hours. But I need you to get the prisoner down from his horse." My legs were feeling rubbery.

Roy put his hands on my arms, propping me up in a manner; I felt foolish. "You okay, son?" Son. Roy once said that he always thought of me as a son. It still warmed my heart.

"Not really. I need a doctor for my hand—and to sit down, if you don't mind." I wanted to downplay my condition.

"You do that. Here." Roy helped me to a chair against the wall and I sat down and looked at my wrapped hand. The bandana was thoroughly saturated and blood dripped onto the wood floor boards and where I had rested my hand on my thigh when riding, was a huge, sticky, dark splotch. I considered I may have been wrong; I just might bleed to death from that wound.

Roy Coffee came in with Randy, his hands still bound and pushed him to the back and I could hear his brother, Zac, call to him once Roy unlocked the doors to the back. And once Randy was stowed in a cell, Roy came back out, locking the double doors to the back cells. He looked at me.

"I'll be back with Doc Martin or his nurse if he's not there. That hand all that's seriously wrong? You're black and blue from your chin to your right eye. It's 'bout swollen shut."

"I had a little disagreement with my captors—should've kept my big, Cartwright mouth shut and done what I was told. You can see I didn't." I hadn't seen my reflection but that explained why I was seeing my upper cheek through my right eye—it was swelling shut.

Roy cleared his throat. "What about that girl out there? She need arresting? She them brother's woman or something?"

"No, Roy. She's my woman—not theirs. She doesn't need arresting."

Roy ducked his head in embarrassment, cleared his throat and headed back out. I lay my head against the wall, closed my eyes and waited.

Honor walked in and I turned to her—she was pale and her sweat-dampened dress clung to her. The patch between her legs was obvious and the dark areolas, visible through the thin fabric. Even as miserable as I felt, I still desired her and a man's body has a mind if its own; I felt that slow crawl toward my belly.

I had no idea what Honor had said to Roy or he to her but she kneeled by the chair and looked at my wrapped hand. I placed it back on my thigh. She said nothing to me, just stood up and began to pull at the shoulder seam of one sleeve of her dress. It must have been stitched well because even though the dress was faded by being washed repeatedly and hung to dry in the sun, it took a few strong tugs to make the first tear. Then she had an easier time and ripped the whole sleeve from the dress. She kneeled by me again and began to unwrap the bandana.

"You don't need to do that; I think the doc is coming." I looked down at her dark hair—she didn't look at me or say anything, just finished unwrapping my hand. I wasn't quite ready to see my finger and it was a surprise—it was cut to the bone behind the second knuckle, the white discernable through the blood. My hand throbbed more and the pain began to creep up my arm as she wrapped her sleeve about my hand. Then she stood up and glanced about, went over to the crock of water and pulling one of the mugs off the shelf, filled it with water. She brought it to me and held it out. I considered swatting it out of her hand and calling her names filthy names and ordering her to get the hell away from me. But I didn't. I took the mug and swallowed the cool water.

And then she touched my face and I found myself pushing my cheek against her hand—I wanted comforting, I craved tenderness. Then she kneeled in front of me and placed her small hands on my knees.

"Adam, I hope you don't think that I enjoyed being with those two men. And I'm sorry about your hand but I had to wait until they were so focused—I knew I had only one chance to use the knife and…" Tears streamed down her cheek and with my good hand, I wiped them away.

"I…for a time I thought maybe you did enjoy it and I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive myself for that and what I was thinking…and for my loss of faith in you—but I hope you can eventually forgive me." And she smiled at me in that way she has that goes straight to my heart. She sighed and placed her small head on my right thigh. I touched her hair and I knew I loved her—loved her more than I had ever thought possible to love anyone.

But I was still a married man and that was problematic. I considered that bleeding to death might be an easier way out than having to face the mess I had created. And if Paul Martin didn't hurry up and get there, it may be the 'happy' resolution whether I wanted it or not.


	8. Chapter 8

**Eighth**

Doctor Paul Martin came from his office, his brow furrowed; I wondered what Roy Coffee had told him, if he made my condition seem worse than it was—but at that time, I didn't know what my condition was; I just knew I felt weak, my head spun and I tried to keep down the bile that threatened to rise up my gullet. Paul looked at my finger—told me that he'd have to clean it, stitch it up and then, well, then we'd have to wait and watch. I might still have to lose the finger if an infection set in from the unclean blade.

"The way it feels right now I'm willing to chop it off myself; just give me a sharp cleaver." I wasn't joking. I believed there'd be less pain with a clean, quick severing.

"I assure you, Adam, if I do have to take it off, well, you'll be out cold and I'll use a sanitized scalpel—or cleaver." He smiled—it was meant as a joke-and I tried to smile but couldn't. But I did relax knowing I was in good hands. Paul Martin believed, as many doctors were coming to believe, that there was something about how clean a wound was that caused it to heal and remain free of infection. If the wound was unclean and ignored of turning the whole appendage could turn black and rot with gangrene resulting in an amputation—no amputation—death as it crawled through the appendages and rotted the body. "Think you can stand up and come to my office?" Paul asked.

"Sure, I can…" I stood up and the world began to spin. I thought I was going to vomit again as my stomach roiled. He grabbed me to keep me from toppling and Honor did as well; they lowered me back into the chair. "I guess I was wrong," I said, chuckling. I could feel sweat rolling down my face and torso.

"All right," Paul said. "It's okay. Stay sitting-I'll take care of you right here." He opened his bag and looked at Honor who had said nothing yet to him. "Show me your hands." She presented her palms. "Go wash your hands well, with soap. I'll need you to assist me." Honor nodded and looked around.

"Through that door back there," I said, motioning with my good hand. In the back was a cot with a chamber pot pushed under it, a pump and a sink in a small wooden counter, as well as wash stand with a basin. There was soap, water and towels. When Virginia City's jail had a prisoner in the cells, either Clem or Roy spent the night in the back room.

"When you're washed, bring me back a basin if there is one and a full pitcher of water. I'll need it."

As Honor walked away, Paul watched her hips sway in the clinging cotton fabric. I had never seen even a hint of salacious behavior in Paul and it made me like him even more to know he got hard at the sight of a well-formed woman as easily as any other man. But it still surprised me as he took care of women every day, helped them in childbirth, gave them internal examinations if necessary and yet remained professional and allowed the women their modesty, examining them by feel only and here he was, almost drooling over a young woman with an ass like a ripe peach.

"Paul?" I asked and he turned quickly, looking meek and embarrassed. I smiled—or the best I could do at the time to smile. Paul blushed and cleared his throat in order to answer me. "You think I've lost much blood? Think that's why I feel so…"

"Well, looking at the bandana and this piece of cloth…her sleeve?" I nodded. It shouldn't have needed confirmation as it was obvious that Honor's sleeve was torn off. But the fabric was soaked through and the small, faded, ditzy print, not obvious. "You've lost quite a bit. Should have gotten to me sooner."

I was going to tell him that I was sorry I hadn't arrived sooner, but I was busy being pinned down and tortured with a skinning knife but shut my mouth and said nothing. Honor came back with clean hands, the basin in one hand and struggling with the pitcher, obviously having filled it up from the sink's pump. And after assisting her in carrying it and sloshing water over his pants' leg and her narrow ankles, Doc Martin began to tend to me; by this time, I could barely see out of my left eye but it didn't matter as I closed the other one too and rested my head.

I tried to distract myself by thinking of the last time Honor crawled over me and used her mouth and tongue to please me but even that couldn't keep the pain from shooting up even to my teeth, it seemed. I don't know which hurt more, the cleaning of the wound with alcohol or the stitching of the severed flesh. I swear I wanted to bawl like a child at the pain. It hurt so much I came close to jerking my hand away. I had to remind myself to keep breathing or I would have passed out. In hindsight, I should have let myself faint dead away and be spared. And even when the doc was finished and had lightly wrapped my injury, my whole hand burned with pain.

Honor was gathering the bloody rags to burn in the little stove in the corner, when my father and Hoss rushed in. Laura came in as well, looking truly upset and she put her gloved hands to her mouth and looked away; it was then I realized how absolutely horrific I must've looked.

Needless to say, my father was near tears and wanted more than anything else to touch me but Doc Martin warned him off and pulling him aside, gave instructions on how to care for me—or so it appeared until I saw my father turn to look at Honor who quietly went about stuffing the oven with the rags and setting them afire with a wooden match. Laura stood quietly and with my good eye, I could see tears in her eyes.

"Goddammit, Adam," Hoss said, his hands in his pocket, "You look like hell! Roy came out to get Clem and told us what happened but I didn't expect you to look this bad."

I tried to smile but my jaw hurt. Doc Martin had made me work it so he could tell if it was broken or not—he said not, but now it hurt even to smile; I doubted I'd be able to chew anything for weeks.

"Hurts to talk. Roy?" I managed to get out and determined that would be the last thing I said.

"He and Clem went to get the body of the man you killed." Hoss said.

And Laura moved closer and leaned down to see me. She had on a broad-brimmed blue hat with rose flowers and her white gloves to protect her skin from the sun. For some reason, that struck me as odd but then, in the time it took to hitch up the buggy, Laura would have had time to look after such things. I suppose I expected her to have come flying to town, even shoeless if that had been the case. But that's no measure of love.

"Oh, Adam, after you're well, after you're better, we can all go back to our own home. Roy said you killed the third robber and we're safe now." She smiled but I could tell by her expression I looked distasteful—and I could smell myself and trust me, as bad as I smelled, Honor smelled far worse than I did after having three men sweat over her—one of them being me. And she hadn't yet been able to wash away any of our leavings. But she stood quietly a few feet away and watched Laura and me and I wondered what she was thinking.

I looked back and forth between them and it was like night and day. Laura was the sunshine—golden and bright and Honor was like a dark, sultry night.

"Laura, I want you to meet…"

My father stepped in and kept me from doing what he felt was going to be a mistake. "Adam, we need to get you home. Hop Sing will want to put chamomile compresses on that eye. C'mon—Hoss and I'll help you to the buckboard. Joe put in some blankets and a pillow—he's with Peggy, probably cheating at checkers or teaching her how to." It was an attempt to cheer me—it didn't work. Both he and Hoss grabbed me under the arms and gently lifted me from the chair. I felt my head swim.

"Wait…I want all of you to meet...this is Miss Honor McCord. She saved my life—in more ways than one." I couldn't make out what Honor felt, what she thought about my introduction as she was expressionless.

Hoss and my father tipped their hats and then quickly went back to holding me up with both hands—I had slumped slightly.

"Here," Hoss said and slipped his arm about my chest and put my right arm about his neck and held onto my wrist. He now supported me alone.

"Honor," I said, "come back to the house with us. You'll be safe and we have enough room; after a bath and hot meal, a change of clothes…."

"Yes, please, Miss McCord." My father followed my lead. "Let me offer you the hospitality of the Ponderosa while I think of how I can possibly thank you for what you've done."

I wanted to tell my father and everyone else all that Honor had done, what horrors she had endured and that she had killed a man—and all for love of me.

"Thank you, Mr. Carwtright," she said, "but I can walk to my house—it's only about a mile out of town. I'll be fine." She started for the door and I couldn't bear to see her leave, to walk away as I had the feeling she was now through with me, that seeing Laura and my family made her realize how she didn't fit in the Cartwright world. And she didn't but I didn't care.

"Honor! Come back—please—don't leave…" But she walked out the door, not even looking back as I struggled to find my feet to go after her.

"Adam…" my father said, and Hoss tightened his hand on my wrist that was over his shoulder.

"Pa, get her back. Go after her. You don't know…her house isn't safe. I didn't realize it, had always thought it was secure until they came and took us. Pa, get her back—please."

Everyone looked embarrassed, my father, Hoss and Dr. Martin. Laura looked as if I'd slapped her. She turned and went outside. At first I hoped she was going after Honor, to ask her to return, to thank her for saving me but I knew that wasn't it and when Hoss took me outside, Laura was sitting stiffly on the buckboard seat; she didn't even look around as Hoss put me in the wagon bed and crawled in beside me. We rode home in silence, my right arm thrown over my eyes to block the sun.

It was the next morning and Hop Sing had just left my breakfast. I felt better that morning, stronger and when I sat up to eat, my ears rang but it faded and my appetite was back—and my jaw still ached. Hop Sing, in consideration of my swollen jaw, gave me mashed potatoes instead of the fried ones I could smell from downstairs and a bowl of porridge. But I was ravenous and the raw cut of beef that I was supposed to hold over my eye was in danger of being eaten as well. Then my door opened and Laura walked in. That was the first I'd seen her since I came home. Peggy had crept in before she went bed and looked at me fearfully—I did look awful, that I knew from the mirror at the washstand. But Laura had stood out in the hall, not coming in, and all she did was call to Peggy when she felt her child had been in my room long enough. And Peggy had kissed me on my good cheek and told me to get well, patting my arm solicitously. She made me smile and the thought of losing her was painful.

But that morning Laura stood at the foot at my bed, her face frozen, and I knew she was waiting for me to start.

"I'm sorry if I embarrassed you, Laura."

"You didn't just embarrass me—you humiliated me. I can't even look at you father and Hoss—or Joe. Everyone knows who that girl is to you—your kept woman. I don't think I can even bring myself to go to Bible study or church anymore—after all, my husband is one of those fornicators mentioned in the Bible.

"And what about Peggy? What about when the children form school hear their parents gossip about you and your paramour? I wasn't going to let Peggy see you last night—I want to protect her from all of it—but she was so frightened by the way you looked when we got home and how shocked Joe was at seeing your state that I wanted her to see you weren't dying as she feared. But I think I could've handled you being dead over…flaunting your mistress in my face. And what a dirty little thing she is."

I looked down at my breakfast. I wanted Laura to leave me in peace. I knew I was being self-centered but I was weary of it all. But more than all, I wanted to slap her for insulting Honor and how she willingly suffered degradation for my sake. I wondered if Laura would have done as much for me.

"I wasn't flaunting Honor in your face and don't say unkind things about her—you have no idea what she went through. I owe my life to her. All that she endured was to save me." I wanted to tell Laura that she didn't understand anything, didn't understand how sexual coupling could result in love and a connection she and I didn't share.

"And herself, I'm sure. You're such a fool to think she endured—I heard what happened. Roy talked to her last night and came by this morning. We all know and I thought I would die of humiliation hearing it." Laura looked self-righteous but I could see she was near tears so I backed off.

"What do you want, Laura? You tell me what would make you happy, what you would like me to do."

Her brow furrowed; she was unprepared for my question. "Well…first, you'll have to give up that woman. You've been keeping her, haven't you?"

"Yes."

"And you'll have to come to church regularly including Bible study. And be a good husband—a faithful one. I'd say be a good father but you already are. And for that, I'm grateful. But if you'll do everything else, I'll stand by you and stay your faithful wife. I've never even flirted with another man, Adam, never even considered another man and that's why this hurts so deeply.

"And as far as our reputation, our reputation as husband and wife, well, I'll just have to hold up my head and ignore all the nasty talk—it'll die down after they see how devoted you are to Peggy and me. But that girl has to go, has to be sent away and not to another town that you'll visit. You have to swear that you're through with her."

We were at a stand-off and neither of us said anything. But I couldn't bear even thinking about never seeing Honor again; even now I ached for her. Just this morning when Hoss had stuck his head in my door asking how I was, I had asked him to check on Honor and see to anything she needed. He promised he would and to stop by the house noontime to tell me how she was doing. And for Hoss to give up eating lunch to tell me about Honor meant that he saw how important she was to me.

"No, Laura, I won't give up Honor. I love her."

Her mouth dropped open. Laura was beautiful—there was no doubt of that—but she didn't rouse my passions, didn't make me want to bend her over and toss up her skirts. But I did love her—I did and I have to say that I still do. But Honor—she loves me with a matching ardor and that's the key, I think. So I told Laura I wouldn't give up Honor, that if Laura wanted to stay my wife, I would treat her like my wife, respect her and raise Peggy in the best way I knew. Laura would live the life of a Cartwright wife, respected and treated like the mate of the Cartwright scion but she would have to allow me to keep on with Honor. It was her choice and she would have to choose.

She stood open-mouthed for about two heartbeats and then she turned and left, slamming the door behind her. And I started on the mashed potatoes.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

**Ninth**

"Adam, you ain't well enough to go nowhere." Hoss tried to hold me down on the mattress but I was determined to get up.

"Get your hands off me—I swear, Hoss…" I attempted again to get up but finally fell back again, weak and sweating. The room was hot even though the drapes were drawn to keep it cool but the short struggle with Hoss left me limp as a wet rag. Hoss let go of me.

"Now that's more like it. I passed Paul on the road and he told me he done told you to stay in bed at least one more day—better two. So you just relax and eat that lunch Hop Sing brought up." He looked lovingly at the bread pudding in a pool of caramel sauce and the crock of corn chowder. There were chunks of thin, fried bacon floating on the top of the milky, thick soup.

"Help yourself, Hoss." I motioned to the tray on the nightstand.

"Nah. I'll just go down and make myself a sandwich or somethin' since Hop Sing done left for town."

"No, I mean it. I'm not hungry." I truly wasn't. The short struggle had made me nauseated.

"You sure 'bout that?" He looked askance at me, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"I'm sure. Help yourself. It'll just go to waste. Just give me the lemonade and the rest is all yours."

Hoss grinned and thanking me, put the tray on his lap as he sat on the side of the bed and I sipped the lemonade.

"Tell me again what she said," I wanted to hear it all again to make certain I had heard everything correctly; my heart had thudded so loudly when Hoss had originally told me that I could hear my pulse in my ears and it had dulled Hoss' words.

"Well," Hoss said as he sipped the chowder. He had picked up the crock and was taking slugs of it, chewing the corn kernels and bacon pieces. "I went, like you asked, to that little house of Slim's and Miss McCord was inside packin'. She sure is a pretty one. Can't say I blame you for…" Hoss shifted and changed his thought. "Anyway…" he paused to chew. It was all I could do to patiently wait. "She knew who I was—I guess she always did—and offered me coffee and some thimbleberry pie. She said she was tryin' to use up all the berries and such in her garden afore she left. She also gave me a huge piece of rhubarb pie—better'n Hop Sing's.

"Anyway, she was packin' some crates and when I asked, she told me she was movin' on. Didn't know yet where she was goin', just that she was goin. And I ate while she packed away some crockery and I guess it was because she didn't have to look at me that she asked about you. I told her Paul said you was gonna be fine and she just nodded. I finished eatin' and she wrapped up a few slices of pie for me—from both of 'em, and I ate 'em on the way out to the west pasture."

"And that's it?"

Hoss had his head back, the crock to his lips, and was tapping on the bottom, I guess to knock loose any of the corn kernels that stuck to it.

"I said I'd be by tomorrow mornin'with a buckboard to help take 'er stuff to the freight depot. She said she'd never owned many things before and was tempted to leave everythin' behind—they were a burden—as it were." Hoss put down the crock and picked up the bowl of bread pudding. "But you know what?" He looked at me. "I think she knows where she's goin'—she just don't want you to know. I mean she's gotta have someplace to send her stuff."

"Tomorrow, huh?"

"Yeah, tomorrow." Hoss held his spoon and looked at me. "Adam, how long did you think you could get away with havin' her on the side? I mean we all knew—me, Joe, Pa. We all knew 'bout her. I'm willin' to wager Laura did too. You shoulda known it'd come to a head sometime."

"I knew it would." I said. "I just—I don't know…I guess I didn't expect to fall in love with her. I thought that after a time, I'd tire of her and I'd just pay the rent until she moved on. But she came to be dear to me and…you can never predict who'll win your heart, Hoss. Never."

"Life's funny, ain't it? We get what we want and then we want more. You got yourself a pretty, little wife and a child in Laura and Peggy and everyone'd think you were the luckiest man in the world. I bet men envy you-I did in a way. And then you want more and you got that too—a tight young thing who'll do most anythin' for you, and you still ain't happy."

Hoss was right. I wasn't yet happy. "Sometimes, Hoss, I think we work to make ourselves unhappy. Or maybe it's not man's lot in life to be happy. I just know that the closest I came to pure joy was when I was with Honor. I could forget everything and just live in my body, just enjoy being alive."

Hoss smiled wanly and then scooped up the rest of the pudding, swallowed it and stood up. "I'll take the tray down to the kitchen. Now you rest. Don't make me wrassle you again."

"Thanks, Hoss. Oh, where's Laura?"

"She's downstairs doin' some mendin'—all of our socks and some work shirts. Why? You want her?"

"No. I just wondered."

Hoss left and I lay in bed and considered what he had said. I was a fortunate man, fortunate in many ways. I worked hard and was rewarded with prosperity. There were many men who worked equally as hard, maybe even harder and barely scraped by. My family was healthy and not considering my state at the time, I was without complaints. Instead of a harridan for a wife, I had a beautiful woman and a darling child and we had our own home. I should be happy with my life.

Notice I said I "should" be. I yearned for something more and that was love. I wanted unconditional love. I wanted a woman who was willing to share her soul as well as her body with me and I felt that was Honor. We would talk many a dark night with her cradled in my arms and I knew her to her core—and yet, there was something more there, something I hadn't yet explored—at least in her being—not her body; I had pretty much explored all of that.

So I considered if I could be happy if I let Honor leave. Thanks to me, she had a hefty sum in the bank so I knew she wouldn't be lacking. She had few wants and was used to living stringently; the amount of money would last her for years—probably the rest of her life. I would have no guilt about having taken care of her because I had promised her I would and she had carried out her part of the bargain. And Honor would more than likely, being as beautiful as she was, eventually find a man to marry and have children. She had her whole life ahead of her and who was I to selfishly keep her hidden away just to be mine.

I needed to talk to her, to find out what Honor really wanted.

Well, not to bore you with details, I managed to dress and while leaving, I saw Laura sitting on the front porch, rocking. She had probably hoped to catch a slight breeze outside under the porch's roof. When she saw me, she asked where I was going and when I told her, she stood up to face me—furious.

"So you're not breaking off with her as I asked."

"I'm going to give her a chance to break it off with me."

She laughed disdainfully. "So Peggy and I don't matter to you at all."

"I never said that. I adore Peggy and I do love you, Laura. And I think you love me but…Honor deserves to be a part of this decision. I'm going to ride out…"

"You do what you want, Adam. I don't care anymore. I've made up my mind as well." And she turned and stormed into the house. I was glad Peggy was in school.

One of the hands was cleaning out the stable and he saddled my horse and soon I was on my way to Honor's.

I told her how things stood between me and Laura and I left the decision up to her. If she wanted to stay, I would still take care of her—I had promised I would. And if she wanted to go, I wouldn't interfere or go after her. But she had to tell me what she wanted—it had to be her choice and I would abide by it. I told Honor I loved her, that I owed her not just my life but for the quality of my happiness that past year. And I would be unhappy if she left but life would go on; people survive unhappiness every day. And I swear to you that I didn't touch her, didn't try to convince her to stay by holding her or kissing her or touching her in those places that started her purring like some sleek cat.

No, I sat on the settee, holding my hat in my good hand and she sat across from me in the slanted light of the afternoon and listened.

I guess if you remember the beginning of my story, you know how it ended; Honor told me she loved me and that she would stay. That was when I took her in my arms and we headed for the bedroom, and still being weak, well, I lay on my back on that lumpy mattress and Honor showed me all the talents she had developed over the past year and I knew what a lucky man I was. And Hoss, had he known what we did that afternoon, would have gone beyond feeling mere envy.

And as I said early on, I built a house for us, for Honor and me, and I ordered a new bed with a down-filled mattress and expensive linens but she told me that she often missed the days when we made love on that old mattress of hers, when she was just learning what it was like to feel truly loved; I was moved by that.

As for the house built for Laura, Peggy and me, well, it still stands empty five years later. Laura wouldn't divorce me but she took Peggy and went to live with her Aunt Lil in San Francisco, high up on Nob Hill. I write to Peggy but she doesn't answer me much anymore and I expect that by now she knows what happened, about my infidelity and why her mother packed her up and left. And for that, I'm sad but I knew it was always a possibility.

I often wish I had a child of my own but that can't be. It's bad enough that some of the people in Virginia City will barely acknowledge Honor, mainly the womenfolk but neither Honor nor I desire to bring a child into this. It would be too hard and whether the child would be a girl or a boy, no matter what its name, it would always be referred to as "that Cartwright bastard." I won't do that.

But I enjoy my life and I knew there would be repercussions but eventually my family has come to accept Honor in a manner, breaking bread with her and making a show of conversation whenever there's a social occasion I can persuade her to attend; Honor is happiest she claims when its just the two of us as she's reserved by nature and feels uncomfortable around anyone but me, particularly if she is called on to respond with an opinion or such; I think it's her lack of education and I also think she has no idea how goddamn beautiful she is. My father often tries to draw her into conversation—for my sake, I'm certain, and she will smile and respond but she always looks to me as if she wants to leave.

And three years ago, Joe married a pretty thing, Maisie Sanderson, and that was the only real problem that arose—Maisie's family told my father that I was welcome but not "my whore." I refused to attend since they wouldn't accept Honor but she told me I was being cruel and demanded I attend; Joe was my brother and needed me there and she had no desire to see a wedding anyway; I caught a tinge on sadness in her voice. I think she did really want to marry, did want to be "Mrs. Cartwright" and I wondered whether I had done her any favors.

And although I want more for Honor, she's content and I guess that's really the secret to happiness—being content with your lot in life and wanting nothing more. And with Honor by my side and in my bed, well, I'm content—if not downright fuckin' happy.

~ Finis ~


End file.
